Starlight
by Missxoloitzcuintli
Summary: Lafayette is attacked and calls for help afterwards. John, Alex, and Hercules help him through recovery. Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault and resulting trauma. There is crying, sadness, and anger about heavy topics. This is not a happy fic.


Starlight

 **Pairings: Hercules Mulligan/Marquis de Lafayette, platonic Marquis de Lafayette/John Laurens/Alexander Hamilton, background Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens**

 **Summary: Lafayette is attacked and calls for help afterwards. John, Alex, and Hercules help him through recovery.**

 **Warnings: Mentions of sexual assault and resulting trauma. There is crying, sadness, and anger about heavy topics. This is not a happy fic.**

I'm vaguely aware of yet another sopping wet leaf sticking to my foot, but I can't feel it. My feet lost feeling from the biting cold long ago.

It's a sad, sad circumstance for someone to be stuck outside in winter with no shoes or socks left to protect from the chill. In all honesty, though, it's the least of my worries.

I called the house about twenty minutes ago. John answered. I explained my predicament and he assured me that he would pick me up as soon as humanly possible. Any minute now, he'll be here. I can keep telling myself that, but deep down I know that it could be another twenty. Or thirty. Or even an hour. There's heavy snow, and show creates delays, and delays create traffic. Our car is old and worn out already. I can only wait.

It's dark. I don't like the dark. John wanted me to stay in the same place, but I want to run. The once white snow is now black and charred-looking in the night. It's suffocating. I'm afraid.

Pain courses through my body when I sit down. I'm not willing to say why. No one can make me talk about it.

I see headlights, but they don't slow down, so I know it can't be John. I try to fight the dread building in the bottom of my stomach.

I remember reading something about frostbite and how sitting down and staying still is the worst thing you can do in cold temperatures, but I don't care. I'm tired, so tired. My body aches.

Another few minutes pass. I can feel the wetness of the ground seeping through my jeans, but it doesn't matter. They were wet already.

A car slows down and stops, and my heart leaps into my throat with hope before I realize that it's a truck. We don't own a truck. It makes a left turn onto the next road.

I sit cross-legged and tuck my bare feet as far under myself as I can manage. Warmth settles over them, and I sigh. I can wait for John like this. I focus on the stars overhead that peek through the trees.

The stars have always been a source of comfort for me. A beacon of hope, maybe. They're always there to look to. I come to them in celebration or if I need to cry. I remember staring down the North Star in frustration after having a fight with Hercules a while ago. When he came to me under the stars that night to apologize, I decided privately that the North Star was ours. I can't find it now. The trees are blocking that part of the sky.

I don't see or hear John until he's calling, "Lafayette! Lafayette! Where are you?" I stand up with renewed energy and half run out of my cover in the woods, and relief floods my heart at the sight of him. I can go home.

He helps me into the car gently when I tell him I'm hurt. He asks where, and I don't respond, but he takes the hint. He only makes contact around my upper body and arms, tenderly, like he's handling a child. Nothing below my waist. I am thankful.

He lays me down in the backseat. I start to protest; he shushes me and tells me to relax. I realize Hamilton is sitting in the passenger seat, his face stony. I move to sit up and instantly regret it when I feel pain again. John places a coat over me when I lay back down. I don't need it, really; he has the heat on full blast. His coat is more comforting than practical.

Before he closes the door, I tell him everything in a rush, my hands pulling at the coat as I speak. I tell him how the two men attacked me, how it hurt, how I couldn't scream. I tell him how I felt then, how I feel now, and what hurts. Hamilton curses under his breath and I think how funny it is that for once, he's quiet.

"You're safe now, okay?" John says. I nod. He gives me a smile, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. He tells me to stay just as I am under the coat and goes to the driver's seat.

I can see John and Alexander talking to each other as John drives, but I can't hear what they're saying because the vent for the heat is near my head and drowns out their voices. I catch the word "doctor" on John's lips and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. I don't need a doctor, and I tell him that. He turns the heat down so he can hear me better and asks me to repeat what I said. I do. He shakes his head at me, clearly disapproving.

"Yes, you do," he says. "You're hurt badly and we can't fix it at home. You need a real doctor."

"I'm not going. I don't need to go," I reply.

"Yes, you do!" he repeats, frustration brewing. "We're going to the hospital right now."

I push myself up again and hiss in pain, and he yells at me to lay back down, his anger getting the better of him. Hamilton yells at him for yelling at me. John apologizes too quickly, and I'm not sure how sincere it is. The car is quiet save for the sound of hot air coming through the vents.

"Please just take me home," I beg. My vision goes blurry and I feel the sting of tears building. "Please. I want to go home."

I see his anger fade as he gives. A single tear slides slowly down my cheek, but I quickly brush it away. Crying about it won't help me. I keep this in mind even as tears start cascading down my cheeks against my will. John turns around when I let out a small sob and curses to himself. He takes a shaky breath.

"It would be the best for you to go to a doctor and get an exam," he begins. "I know it's the last thing you want to do right now, but it will help you. Especially if you want to report this. We can go to the hospital and get you cleaned up and everything, and while we're there Alex can drive home and get clean clothes for you and bring them back. Then we'll go straight home. Okay?"

I turn his idea over and over again in my head before agreeing to it. He's right, I realize. It won't be a walk in the park, but I need to do this while the evidence of what happened is still there. I wipe my face off and stop crying.

Alex gets a call from Hercules and immediately hands his cellphone to me. I wonder why he didn't call me instead, but then I remember that my phone died soon after I called for help. He probably called multiple times. He's probably worried sick.

Herc's relief rolls over me in waves when he hears my voice. Alex texted him when they found me to tell him that I was attacked, he says. I let him know that we're going to the hospital to get me examined and he agrees that it's the best plan. "I would've found those sick bastards myself," he says. "You don't wanna know what I'd do to them if I did." I tell him to mind his temper.

* * *

The exam room is fairly warm, I notice. I didn't think it would be.

The nurse asks me questions about what happened. I find myself opening up and giving her details with surprising ease. It seems so far away, almost like it never happened to me in the first place, like it happened to someone else. She doesn't react too much, but that's only because she's not really allowed to. I can see the disgust in her eyes, but I know it's not directed towards me.

I can still feel a burning, sharp pain when I position myself on the table. Not good. I start to write and twist myself to get away from the pain, but the nurse puts a calming hand on my belly and shushes me. She guides me carefully until I'm comfortable and then proceeds with the next part of the exam.

John is in the waiting room. He's only seen my nude body once accidentally, and I didn't want him to see me so exposed. That's exactly how I feel - exposed. My legs are open and I want them closed. There's a person touching me and I don't want to be touched. I know the nurse is helping me but my instincts tell me to run.

I gasp when she touches an area that is most definitely raw, pain coursing through my blood like fire. She apologizes and makes note of it. She asks if I'm okay with her taking pictures of the injury and I give her permission to do so.

She's very nice. She's gentle. She lets me move at my own pace. Even when she's examining sensitive areas that hurt like hell, it's surprisingly bearable.

She takes samples of everything, it seems. She runs a quick test in one corner of the room. "No STDs here," she says. "I'll send some blood samples to our lab and call you in two weeks once those come back, but I think you're clean." She smiles at me and I smile back.

I thank her when we're finished. She says it's just part of her job and that she hopes I get justice for what happened to me. I'm to call her if anything else feels wrong or starts to hurt.

Alexander brought clothes from home for me. I eagerly put them on even though I know I'll have to wash them when I get home. The hospital has to keep the clothes I was wearing before.

We check out of the hospital. The drive home feels lighter.

* * *

Walking up the stairs to get to the house gives me a sort of confidence. I'm home, where I don't have to worry about uncontrollable things.

Hercules jumps off of the couch when I open the door. His eyes are puffy and his bottom lip is wet and swollen from him worrying it between his teeth. He's a wreck, I realize, and he doesn't want to hug me because he's afraid I might freak out.

I step forward and wrap my arms around him. He hugs me back tightly.

John and Alexander stay downstairs as Herc and I go up. Herc watches every step I take as if I'm going to break.

The nurse said I'm free to shower, so that's what I'm going to do. I ask Hercules to stay with me, and he does. He helps me undress, pausing every time he starts on a new garment to ask if it's okay. I hesitate when he asks about my briefs; he pulls away quickly. I pull his hands back to my hips and make him take them off. Purple and blue bruises appear with every inch he moves, and when he's finished, he stands back.

I can see his anger boiling up from within as he studies the marks all over my naked body. "I'll kill them," he says through clenched teeth.

"I'm okay."

"I'll fucking kill them."

"My love," I say, stepping closer. "Breathe." I place a short kiss on his cheek and step in the shower.

The warm water feels heavenly on my sore body. I let it run over my face and down my back, allowing the tension in my muscles to dissolve. I shampoo my hair, and it feels so nice that I plan to do it again after I wash the rest of myself. I pick up the bottle, put some soap in my hand, and go to put the bottle back down.

I drop the bottle and that's all it takes.

It's like everything from the past few hours hits me at that moment. I drop my hands to my sides and feel the bruises on my hips. I finally admit to myself that I was raped. I was raped by two strangers. I feel myself starting to cry again, but I can't tell if the water is from my tears or the shower, and I can't tell if the burning in my eyes is from my tears or the soap. My chest tightens. I kick the bottle away from me and almost slip in the process. When I make a noise of surprise, Herc asks me if I'm alright.

"No!" I yell to him, and he pulls the shower curtain to the side and sees what a panicked mess I am. He shuts the water off, pulls me out, and wraps me in a warm towel, holding me close to him until I'm not crying anymore.

I'm absolutely drained. I know that this won't be the last time I feel tightness in my chest or tears in my eyes over this, and it scares me. Hercules lifts me easily and carries me to our bedroom. He lays me down on the sheets, runs a thumb over one of my cheekbones, and goes to the window. He opens the curtains and lets the starlight shine through on my face. The North Star twinkles brightly in the sky.

I fall asleep with Hercules lying next to me and the North Star shining down and I feel so safe.


End file.
